


a hundred million yen and a blowjob from an idol

by Laylah



Category: Kamen Rider Amazons (2016)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Blood and Gore, Gen, Horror, Spoilers, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: There might really be something wrong with him.





	

Kazuya has nightmares in the hospital. He figures that makes sense, when he jerks awake from another one drenched in sweat with his heart racing and the wreck of his left arm throbbing. It was a traumatic experience, what happened to him. More traumatic than the rest of the whole Amazon thing, even. Of course he'd have nightmares. 

They're pretty much exactly what anyone would expect, that terrible moment replaying in gruesome slow motion: Mamoru's claws puncturing his armor like so much tissue paper. Mamoru's teeth shearing through his flesh. The grinding crunch of bone shattering under inhuman amounts of pressure. The raw wet ripping sound of skin and muscle being torn away. The only part that doesn't feel just like the real thing except moreso is the pain.

He doesn't talk to his assigned psychiatrist about it. The guy's on Nozama's payroll, so it's not like Kazuya would be spilling trade secrets or anything, but mostly he feels like, really? What's anyone going to tell him that would make it better? Of course he's having nightmares, this sweet kid he really liked lost it and ate his arm. That messes with a guy.

He heals faster than anyone expects him to. The doctors tell him as much when they let him out. The stump of his arm has sealed over with pink and shiny scar tissue that never entirely stops hurting but at least holds together okay. It can take having a fake arm strapped to it so little kids don't stare at him on the bus or anything.

It's exactly his luck, pretty much. Get up to your eyeballs in debt, find a shady and dangerous job that'll pay back the whole thing if it doesn't kill you. Get your arm ripped off, heal fast enough to be back at work by the time the severance checks come through.

The nightmares start to change around the time he moves out of the Inoue Building. Sure, some of them are still the same relive-the-highlights thing, but some of them... aren't. Or they are, but they're... different.

Like the ones where he's rushing through those tunnels and he's following someone, following a blood trail, and his heart pounds with the thrill of it—he thinks when he wakes up that Mamoru was with him in that dream, but it was dark and the impressions are smudged and mostly he remembers the chase.

Or the one where the chase ends, and he gets warm meat between his teeth and bites down, and it tastes like heaven, like the best steak in the world and also like a hundred million yen and a blowjob from an idol. The psychiatrist would probably have a lot to say about that one.

Whatever, though, they're just dreams. Kazuya gets on with his life as best he can anyway, renting a shitty little apartment with his severance pay and looking for a job he can pick up despite his stupid arm. There has to be an angle he can work on the arm thing, honestly, if he can just figure out what it is.

He burns through what's left of Nozama's money pretty fast. He's not even spending it on fun shit, either—he feels like a damn bottomless pit, but he's constantly hungry, and just noodles don't cut it for filling him up anymore. Probably it's the healing process. You need a lot of protein to rebuild damaged tissue, right? Even if there isn't a whole lot of tissue left _to_ rebuild. It's a theory and he's sticking with it. It explains why he's constantly craving sashimi and katsu and even those shitty hamburgers Mamoru used to like so much.

Man, poor kid. Was this what he felt like all the time? No wonder he lost it eventually.

No, back up. Different situation. Totally different. 

Shit, though, what a mess that would be, walking around feeling this hungry and knowing that taking a bite out of somebody is the only thing that would really fix it. Kazuya's stomach grumbles just thinking about it. Which is fucked up, but he knows that, and it's not like he's actually _going_ to flip out and go cannibal on anyone, so it's fine. Mostly.

After a couple of weeks the dreams are almost always the less-scary, more-sketchy kind. He'll wake up in the middle of the night panting, good arm wrapped around his middle, starving and still reeling from the fading shreds of a dream where wet, red perfection melted on his tongue. It's enough to make a guy wonder if he's going crazy.

When his old syndicate buddies catch up to him and ask where the rest of the money is, he goes straight into placating mode just like always, trying to make a joke out of how wrecked he is, trying to reassure them that everything's going to be fine. Nozomi shows up to save his ass before things can get ugly, and it's good to see her and even better to see her put those guys on the ground with a couple of well-placed kicks, but afterward he can't help wondering. What if she hadn't come along? What if he'd just lost it right there, lunged for that smug jerk's face and bitten down?

The team gets back together, more or less. They're down a total of four guys now. Four point two guys, counting Kazuya's left arm. But Mamoru might be alive out there somewhere. If anybody's going to go find the kid, it should be them.

The night before they go looking, Kazuya can't even sleep, he's so nervous and so hungry. The others breathe like they're sound asleep, like they have the sense to get some rest before going into a dangerous mission, and Kazuya wishes he could follow their good example. He just can't stand feeling like this. There aren't any leftovers from dinner. He wonders what Nozomi would taste like. She's got to be the best-tasting of the three of them. And she'd kill him for trying it, probably knows fifty ways to kill a man unarmed, but even just one bite....

There might really be something wrong with him.

He manages to keep his teeth to himself and therefore all his remaining parts attached. They suit up in the morning and drive out to the desolate beach where Nozama's last team disappeared, where Mamoru's lucky charm was found. Nobody's in the mood for talking on the way there. Kazuya mostly wishes they'd had a more filling breakfast.

The good news is, Mamoru's alive. The bad news is everything else. There are dozens of Tlaloc survivors in this group alone. Haruka's crazy and Jin's crazier. Mamoru won't come home.

But the team's back together and they're getting paid, so they pick up dinner on the way back. Kazuya orders extra meat. It's almost enough.

He dreams about the restaurant where they got their takeout, only in the dream it's staffed by cute girls who carve up human bodies in the kitchen. He's pretty sure that can't be true, though. Not, you know, that people don't do that sort of thing—they all know better than that—but the food was just mediocre. Actual fresh-butchered human would have to be tastier. Mamoru was an instant convert, right? Couldn't stand junk food anymore, but he bolted down Kazuya's arm like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Getting back into the extermination job is basically hell. They don't have the firepower they need without the rest of the team, without Mamoru and Haruka. The Amazons who survived Tlaloc are all wary, dangerous bastards. And Kazuya is starving.

They follow up on a lead from the new investigation team, and it takes them out to a little house at the edge of the city where the tracker's been giving them intermittent signals. Without a team Amazon to tell them when there's another one close by, they have to do this the old-fashioned way. So they split up, working their way through the house, looking for their mark. Kazuya doubts the guy is still here. He knows he'd run instead of hiding if it were him.

He winds up in the kitchen, looking for signs of the Amazon who isn't there. The space is spotless, empty, almost like it's never been lived in at all. Morbid curiosity makes him open the fridge.

The smell hits him the second he opens the door: sharp, unsettling, copper and salt. His mouth floods with saliva and his stomach cramps, and that's _not okay_ and he can't help it. He looks. Their fastidious Amazon has left a mess in the fridge, half a rib cage jutting up out of the wreck of a torso. Blood pools under it, sticky and thick. On another shelf there's most of a lower leg, gnawed on around the knee but plenty of meat still on the bone.

Kazuya should be sick. He knows that. He's not.

He's hungry.

His shotgun hangs from its strap, forgotten, as he reaches into the fridge. He picks up the leg by the ankle. It feels weird, too much give in the flesh, less like a person and more like a cut of meat. His stomach growls.

One bite. One bite would be enough for him to know if there's really something going on with him or if he's just fucked up in the head. One bite, and nobody would have to know. He lifts the leg to his mouth.

It's raw meat, tough to tear free, but the second it touches his tongue Kazuya's ruined. It's so _good_ , tangy and rich, just a faint hint of sweetness to balance the flavor. The part of Kazuya that's been hungry since the hospital is finally comforted, finally sated, as he gulps down that first bite. Just one more. Just one more bite, and he's crooning with the pure animal pleasure of it, with the relief of having the hunger finally go away.

Shidou swears from behind him. Kazuya startles, dropping the leg, and turns around to find Shidou's gun trained on him, aiming right between his eyes. He looks sick, but not surprised.

"I can explain," Kazuya says. It's a reflex. But there's blood running down his chin and no explanation that will make this okay.

Nothing will make this okay at all.


End file.
